


Yours and Mine

by ami_ven



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 13:59:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10743117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: Clint felt light-headed, not sure if he should be angry— Phil was dead, and somebody apparently thought it would be funny to impersonate him— or hopeful—couldPhil actually be alive?





	Yours and Mine

**Author's Note:**

> vaguely post- _Captain America: Winter Soldier_ , but that’s mostly not important

“Agent Barton, take the shot,” said a voice in Clint’s ear, and he loosed an arrow before he even registered how utterly impossible that voice was.

“ _Phil?_ ,” he gasped, suddenly breathless.

“Barton, get back to ground level,” snapped a different voice, female and emotionless.

“May?” asked Clint, recognizing her. “Was that— Is that really—?”

“Ground, Barton,” she repeated.

Clint hurried down the rusty fire escape from the roof-top. He felt light-headed, not sure if he should be angry— Phil was dead, and somebody apparently thought it would be funny to impersonate him— or hopeful— _could_ Phil actually be alive? He hadn’t decided by the time he reached the ground and Melinda May appeared from the crowd of SHIELD personnel.

“What the hell?” he demanded.

“He had his reasons,” May said, and Clint felt like he’d taken a punch to the gut. From Thor.

“He’s _alive_?” Clint gasped. “He’s okay?”

“He’s alive,” said May. “He’s been running things since SHIELD fell and Fury left.”

“He— What?”

Clint had, for no reason that he could remember, been at Stark’s place in Malibu the day everything had gone down, having lunch with Pepper Potts. He’d felt worse watching her watch the grainy news videos of burning SHIED bases, and guiltily grateful for the excuse to stay with her, keep her safe. He’d always been a loner, even after he joined SHIELD, and while he’d have fought without hesitation to protect his fellow agents, the only people he’d have run into an unknown hostile situation to rescue were Natasha, who was with Steve— if there was anyone Clint trusted to watch her back if he couldn’t, it was Captain America, not that she probably needed much help— and Phil, who was dead.

He’d known there were pockets of SHIELD that had survived the Hydra attack, because they had been in contact with the Avengers. Several of the messages had been straight from ‘the Director’, terse and cryptic, which was no surprise with Fury.

But a few of the messages had been specifically for Clint, just coordinates to SHIELD weapons caches, all of them ending simply, _Be careful_. From Fury, Clint had taken that as a reminder, that he was still a SHIELD agent, even if he was an Avenger, and that he was only human and needed more advantages than super soldiers or demi-gods. But from Coulson…

“Barton!” May said, sharply and like it wasn’t the first time. “ _Barton_.”

Clint was breathing hard, like he couldn’t get enough air. Spots of color danced at the edges of his vision and when firm but gentle hands pushed him down to sit on an overturned US postal box, he didn’t resist. The hands kept moving, skimming over him, checking for injuries.

“Barton?” said a voice, not May. “Clint, what is it? Are you hurt?”

“You’re alive,” Clint breathed, looking up into a face he never though he’d see again. “You’re _alive_.”

Phil Coulson was crouched on the uneven pavement in front of him, one hand loosely curled around Clint’s elbow. “Yes.”

“How?”

“It’s a long story,” Phil said, and he sounded tired. “But I _was_ dead. Technically. For longer than I should have been.”

“But you’re okay now?” Clint pressed.

“I’m… getting there,” said Phil.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

Phil paused. “Fury was right, the team needed that push.”

“And after?” said Clint. “Didn’t you think we’d stay a team if we were celebrating you being alive?”

“I wasn’t really in any condition to celebrate,” said Phil. “It was… it was bad, Clint. And when I was up and running again, it was just too late. But I tried to keep an unobtrusive eye on you, when I could. Help out.”

“You did help,” said Clint.

Phil smiled and stood, his hand sliding away from Clint’s elbow and Clint jumped up to catch his wrist, unwilling to give up the contact.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, softly.

“I—” Phil began, but Clint had stood up too quickly and Phil caught him before he fell over. “Clint—”

“Why didn’t you tell _me_?” Clint demanded, not even trying to pretend that he wasn’t clinging to Phil. “You sent me messages, Phil. You told me to be careful. I know you still care about me, I know it. So why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I abandoned you,” said Phil, like he had to say it and didn’t want to say it, all at once. “I abandoned you, and in a lot of ways, I was better off dead.”

“What?” said Clint.

Phil took a deep breath, then said softly, “I knew you would be all right if I died, Clint. It’s something we’re prepared for, doing what we do, and you’d be strong enough to move on. But learning it had been a lie… Too many people you trusted have walked out on you, and I couldn’t stand the thought of being one of them.”

“So you would have let me keep believing you were dead _forever_?” Clint asked, and he couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice.

“Yes,” said Phil, as though Clint’s anger hurt him and he deserved the pain, and Clint slumped with a sigh.

“You _died_ , Phil,” he said. “You died and I realized that I hadn’t known how important you were. I’d never known how much you were in my life until you were gone and all I had was emptiness.”

“Clint…”

“And if I hadn’t been such an idiot, I could have figured it out while you were still here, and maybe you wouldn’t have _stayed dead_ because you believed I’d been better off without you.”

Clint drew in a long, ragged breath. “For the record, Phillip J. Coulson, there is not a single one of those nine realms that Thor keeps talking about where I am not desperately better off having you with me.”

“Noted,” said Phil, dryly, and so like himself that Clint gave in, letting his forehead drop onto Phil’s shoulder, the other man’s arms coming up, hesitantly, to his waist.

“You didn’t abandon me, Phil,” he said. “And you’re better than I’ve ever deserved.”

“Clint…”

“And I just—” Clint pulled back, still in Phil’s arms, to look at him. “You know me, sir, always asking for more than I should, so would you— can I—?”

He leaned forward, uncertain, but as usual Phil was still with him, ahead of him, and he moved his hands up to cup Clint’s face, pulling him in for a long, deep kiss.

It was _real_. Not a trick, not a hallucination and Clint held on tight, not even trying to speed up the kiss, just savoring it.

“Anything,” Phil promised, when they broke for air, and Clint had forgotten his almost-question. “It’s yours, Clint. _I’m_ yours, if you want me.”

“I’ll trade you,” Clint offered, smiling. “Yours for mine.”

Phil laughed. “Deal.”

“Coulson,” said May, suddenly. “Incoming.”

Both men tensed, ready to fight, until a voice boomed, “The Son of Coul yet lives! This is cause for celebration!”

“Don’t worry, sir,” said Clint, as the rest of the Avengers surrounded them, all talking at once, “I’ll protect you.”

Phil caught his hand and held on tight.

THE END


End file.
